Their Night
by sailorstarsun
Summary: (BL, TezuAto) "I wanted it to be so perfect for you, my Husband."


"How do I look? Fabulous, ahn?"

Fabulous was an understatement, and Tezuka knew Atobe knew it. The young athlete was stunning in his pristine suit - white, because he liked to stand out in a sea of dark-colored formal wear. Custom tailored to fit his lean-muscled body perfectly, not a thread nor hair out of place. Lavender tie of pure silk matched his silvery hair, set against the deep violet of his freshly-pressed dress shirt. The ensemble had cost far more than a simple pretty penny, but to Atobe it was worth any price to look his very best.

Especially on nights like these.

Tezuka looked over his lover with a raised eyebrow, then eventually replied "you look fine," as he tucked in the shirt of his _much_ less expensive suit.

"Fine?" Atobe raised an elegant eyebrow of his own.

"... Good?"

"Hmm..." he brought a hand up to his face, peering through fingers spread in front of his eyes. It was a _very_ familiar pose to anyone who'd seen the young tennis star play an important match, and especially so to his longtime 'rival'. "Something tells me you're thinking more like _damn sexy_."

"Don't you _Insight_ me," Tezuka said with a feint smirk.

"I didn't have to." Atobe pulled his hand down and grinned. "I can read it in your eyes."

"Fine then." Walking over and putting his hands on the other's shoulder, the bespeckled man's eyes danced behind his rimless glasses. Their gazes locked as he gave in. "You look _damn_ sexy."

Atobe chuckled, then leaned in for a kiss. It started off chaste enough, but the rampant emotions they were both feeling, heightened by the significance of what this night meant to them, in time they were pulling each other closer. Holding each other tighter. Mouths were open as their tongues danced, broken up by moments spent nibbling each other's lips. Tezuka's hands slid down Atobe's back while Atobe's own hold around his lover's waist pulled their hips closer together.

And then abruptly he broke it off, pushing at Tezuka's chest as he stepped back. "If we keep this up you're going to force me to wrinkle my suit and we'll miss our dinner reservations." His voice was a lot more stable than his flushed face gave him credit for.

With an amused half-smirk, Tezuka picked up a set of keys from his study desk. "Alright then, lets go."

-

The soft chime of two crystal champagne glasses meeting resounded even as they were separated and the holders drank from them.

"Happy anniversary," Atobe said with a smile much softer than what he usually graced the public world with. Much brighter too.

Tezuka gave a nod, returning the blessing. Then his eyes turned downward, gazing into the golden liquid that bubbled in his glass. "I just wish...that I could marry you for real. With all the rights and benefits and recognition that goes along with it." As a lawyer, Tezuka was well aware of the advantages a full and legal marriage held; from tax breaks to hospitalization rights to insurance benefits. To not be able to share that with the person he loved, just because they were of the same gender, was deplorable.

"I know, Love." Reaching across the table, Atobe took Tezuka's left hand in his own. The matching gold rings they each wore gleamed as the restaurant's soft lighting hit them just right. "It'll happen someday. That's what we're working for; that's what we're _fighting_ for."

Again Tezuka nodded, with what others would call hardness Atobe knew to be resolution in his eyes.

"Now," the chic-suited young man stood, and held a hand out to his lover. "Shall we dance?"

They glided smoothly across the dance floor, each being light and graceful on their feet after so many years of playing tennis. The first time Atobe ever pulled Tezuka out to dance he had been stiff and shy, all too aware of the eyes watching two men on the floor together, but now moving with the other came so naturally. He no longer paid much mind to the stares and whispers; he was too caught up in how his and Atobe's bodies flowed together to the music.

He wasn't sure how much time was spent out there on the dance floor, but after a while they were interrupted by a tap on Atobe's shoulder. The person requesting attention was a man in a black tuxedo and name-tag announcing him to be the restaurant's concierge, and he begged their pardon, but could they follow him to a less public part of the restaurant? And they did, and were asked if they could perhaps stay off the dance floor and be a little more low-key.

"Whatever for?" Atobe asked indignantly. "Did we do something wrong?"

"Not at all, Sir," the maitre d' replied in his most 'suck-up-to-the-rich-person' voice. "It's just...your relationship is making some of the other guests...uncomfortable."

A scowl crossed Atobe's fine eyebrows as his suspicions were confirmed. "Well that's too damn bad," he snorted. "I paid good money for-"

"Forgive me, Sir," the man interrupted. "But the other guests have paid as well, and they have asked that you stop these..._homosexual_ activities."

A growl escaped Atobe's throat, and his hands balled into fists, and Tezuka knew what was coming before it happened. His lover was usually a very cool and collected guy, but he had his few things that if touched on in the wrong way, by the wrong person, it really set him off very quickly. Tennis was one, and another - perhaps Atobe's _most_ touchy subject - was Tezuka, and their relationship. But even knowing this, he was unable to stop the other when his fist retracted back, then slammed forward, punching the unsuspecting concierge hard in the cheek.

"Keigo!" Tezuka grabbed his infuriated lover, holding him back from doing any further damage and pulling him toward the exit. "We're leaving."

"Homosexual activities my ass!" Atobe continued to shout as he was being dragged away. "We were doing the same things as everyone else! Somebody is going to pay for this! ... Do you know who I am!"

-

"I'm sorry, but that just really made me angry."

Tezuka closed the freezer door after collecting a fair amount of ice into a baggie and wrapped it in a towel. He sat across from Atobe at their kitchen table and took the other's right hand, placing the ice-pack on reddened knuckles. "I know," he replied simply.

"Why do people have to be like that?"

There was no response. He knew the answer, and he knew Atobe knew it too. People didn't like what they didn't understand; they felt threatened by anyone who was any different than themselves.

"I hope that didn't ruin the _whole_ evening for you." Atobe's voice was softer now. Subdued, as his gaze met with Tezuka's. "I wanted it to be so perfect for you, my Husband."

Tezuka gave one of his rare little smiles, the kind that told Atobe he'd said just the right thing. He stood up and walked around to the other side of the table, and knelt by his lover's side. "The night isn't over yet."

The smile was returned, and the look in Atobe's eyes was absolutely smoldering. He stood from his own seat, taking Tezuka's hand and pulling him up, and then led him to the bedroom.

The incident was forgotten as that white suit was slowly removed from Atobe's body. Erased from their memories as they celebrated their anniversary. And when the day came that people realized their love was just as real and true as any other, they'd remember it all and know it was just another battle well-fought. They'd have their day.

But for now, they had their night.


End file.
